


Teach Me Tonight

by Renleigh



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dancing, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 03, The Sign of Three Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renleigh/pseuds/Renleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock teaches John to waltz in preparation for his wedding to Mary. Set during The Sign of Three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me Tonight

It's a cloudy Saturday afternoon, just weeks before the wedding, and Sherlock is gazing out the window playing his violin when John enters the flat. Sherlock doesn't turn to look, but John knows Sherlock knows he’s there; he’s sure Sherlock knows him by the way he opens the door and the sound of his footfalls on the floor and the scent of his shampoo (and probably by the fact that John is the only person who walks into 221b and doesn’t immediately start speaking).

John crosses over to his chair. "That's lovely, Sherlock. What is it? Mozart? Bach?"

"Don't pretend to know your composers, John. It's an original composition."

"Well, it's quite nice."

"Good. It's for you."

"For me?

"Of course. It's for your first dance with Mary."

"Oh." John pauses, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again.

Sherlock turns. "What? Oh I see, you're worried about your lack of dance ability. Worry not, John, it's just a waltz. You can't get much simpler than a waltz."

John snorts."Sure, yeah, so simple. Like you know how to waltz."

Sherlock stops playing, lowers his violin and bow, and walks towards John’s chair. "Of course I know how to waltz."

"Yeah, where'd you learn?"

"Mummy loves to dance. She taught me and Mycroft when we were young, then she put us in lessons."

John snickers. "I'd pay money to see that. Little Sherlock in a tutu, twirling around."

Sherlock puts the violin down on the table and draws closer to John. "Okay, I'll show you."

John chuckles again. "Go ahead."

Sherlock bows and offers John his hand.

"You're joking," says John.

"Of course not. Why would I be? You need to learn to dance, you want to see me dance, so I am going to teach you to dance."

"I don't need to learn to dance--"

"Rubbish, John; Mary deserves to not be embarrassed by the sad little shuffle you're going to try to pass off as dancing."

"Fine, but--"

"Worry not, I'll lock the door so Mrs Hudson doesn't walk in and get any more ideas."

“Fine, fine, you can teach me to waltz.” John rises, wiping his palms on his trousers. Sherlock turns to the speakers, selecting a track for them to practice to. Then he returns to the open part of the floor and strikes his best teacher’s pose, hands clasped behind his back.

“The waltz is simple. You just need to be able to count to three--you can do that, can’t you John?” Sherlock smirks.

“I am going to step on your toes on purpose, Sherlock.”

“And you move your feet in a box like so.” Sherlock steps back and demonstrates solo. John is taken aback. He’s always known Sherlock to be a graceful man, so the fluidity of his movements are no surprise, but the look of serene joy on his face is rather unexpected. 

“No, John, look at my feet, not my face.”

“Yes, your feet, sorry, I was distracted,” responds John, quickly casting his glance downward. Sherlock raises an eyebrow but says nothing, doing a few more box steps while John’s eyes remain locked on his feet.

“All right, now we’ll do it together,” says Sherlock, and closes the gap between the two of them. John swallows nervously and wipes his hands on his trousers again. He lifts his left hand, preparing to take Sherlock’s right.

“Oh no, I’ll be leading at first. You can learn the rhythm by following and then we’ll switch so you can learn to lead,” says Sherlock, and before John can argue Sherlock’s left hand is holding his right and his right arm is wrapped John’s torso, drawing him in. “Now put your left hand on my shoulder, John, good, good. Okay, we’ll do this at half-tempo; just look down and follow. Ready?”

John nods, licking his lips.

“Right back, left over, right together, left forward, right over, left together.” Sherlock repeats this list of steps for a few more rounds; John listens, staring at his feet as he tentatively follows Sherlock’s instructions.

“Now we’re going to take it up to tempo.” As their pace quickens, Sherlock’s arm tightens, bringing John closer and removing the polite distance John had left between them. “Don’t forget to breathe.” 

John exhales. “Yeah, I was concentrating--”

“I know. Now try to do it while looking at me, not at your feet.”

John brings his eyes up to meet Sherlock’s. John expects this not to work, expects to lose track of his feet and tangle them in Sherlock’s, but the gentle pressure of Sherlock’s hands on his body and the rhythm of the music are combining to make waltzing with Sherlock strangely natural-feeling.

“Now we’re going to try turning. Just stay with me.”

“Of course,” says John, or at least he would if his voice weren’t catching in his throat. The world is spinning, and his eyes are fixed on Sherlock. John has no idea how much time has passed, but eventually the music comes to an end and Sherlock stops moving. John stumbles and breaks eye contact, dropping his hands and moving away from Sherlock.

“Thanks for the lesson, but I did come over here for a case. We should probably go take care of that now.”

“Yes, quite. We can resume your dancing lessons next week.”

\---------------

Next Saturday, John can’t decide if he hopes Sherlock forgets that they’re supposed to have waltz class or insists upon it. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wonder long. As he climbs the stairs to the flat, he can hear Sherlock’s waltz and feels a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Good afternoon,” says John, in a carefully even voice.

“Ready for your lesson?” asks Sherlock as he rises from his chair.

“Yeah. Is this recording you playing?” asks John as he sheds his coat.

“I thought it would be helpful for you to practice to the actual music.”

They meet in the middle of the floor. “I also thought you’d like to lead this time,” says Sherlock.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” says John. Sherlock moves in smoothly and swiftly. John takes him around the waist and is surprised by how solid he feels. Sherlock had always looked so lean, almost delicate, but the years undercover had apparently made him more muscular.

“A bit higher,” says Sherlock, adjusting John’s grip.

“Sorry, it’s just--you’re tall, you know that? Mary’s not that tall.”

Sherlock just arches an eyebrow. 

“All right, so I lead?”

Sherlock nods. “Just listen for the downbeat. _One_ two three, _one_ two three.” Sherlock taps the beat out on John’s shoulder. John hesitates, but after a measure, he begins. He’d practised a bit on his own, didn’t want to be too embarrassed when it came time to lead, and after staring at his feet for a few measures, a smile creeps across his face. He glances up at Sherlock, and for a split second he thinks he sees the same surprised smile on Sherlock’s face.

“This--this is going surprisingly well,” says John.

“Well, I am a particularly good follower,” says Sherlock.

John barks out a quick laugh. He’s about to explain or apologize or something but then Sherlock smiles and they just keep dancing. Eventually John realizes he’s been staring into Sherlock’s eyes for ages. In the video he’d watched yesterday he’d noticed that the dancers were looking over each other’s shoulders, not into each other’s eyes, but he sees no reason to bring that up. It’s good practice for the first dance, where no one would begrudge him staring at his bride and no one would be on the dance floor for him to crash into, and besides, Sherlock’s eyes are so beautiful in the cloudy afternoon light ( _where did that thought come from?_ , John asks himself), so they look into each other’s eyes. It won’t occur to him until that night to ask himself why Sherlock didn’t look away either.

The music ends and in the silence John hears his heartbeat in his ears. A second later, the music starts over again. “I put it on repeat. Your turns need work,” says Sherlock, and before John knows it, Sherlock’s maneuvered himself back into the leading position. “Gentle, John, gentle, don’t steer, just suggest.” 

John licks his lips and nods.

“Close your eyes.”

John obeys, focusing all of his attention on the music and on Sherlock’s guiding hands. Shockingly, he manages not to trod on Sherlock’s feet as they turn ( _such large feet--nope, not thinking about that_ ). 

“Open.” John obeys (John always obeys). “Before you lead again, I wanted to suggest something.” For a second, John sees something like sadness flicker across Sherlock’s face, but it disappears faster than John can think. 

“Yeah?”

“At the end you should dip Mary. Like this.” Sherlock wraps his arms around John and tries to dip him, but he’s as solid as a rock. “John. I’ve got you.”

John feels ridiculous, but he relaxes, lets Sherlock’s surprisingly strong arms support him. Their eyes meet, and Sherlock smiles. “See? The crowd will love this.”

“Yes, I suppose they will,” responds John as he’s returned upright. He steps back from Sherlock. “Got a case on?”

\---------------

He keeps thinking about the waltz. Surely he should practise the dip himself. He’s back at 221b a few days later; he comes by after work while Mary’s at the shops with one of her friends. Sherlock’s in his robe, lying on the sofa and staring at the ceiling. “What are you doing here? Writing a blog post? Forcing me to watch awful telly?”

“Actually, I wanted to practice the waltz again.”

“Really? I thought you’d had the hang of it, or well enough.”

“I need to dip you.”

Sherlock wordlessly removes himself from the couch and turns on their song. They take their positions on the floor, their hands easily finding their places. John leads them through the steps, marveling at how comfortable he feels, even if he’s nowhere near as graceful as Sherlock. As the now-familiar tune draws to the end, John inhales deeply and wraps his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. He half expects Sherlock to resist, but he allows John’s embrace to support him. As he reaches the lowest point of the dip, he pauses. “Do you think I should kiss her here?” 

There’s silence, and for a split second John Watson is unsure whether he’s much too close to Sherlock’s face or not close enough. Arms shaking slightly, he lifts Sherlock back up.

“A kiss there would be perfect.”


End file.
